Winter Solstice - 21st December 2013
The eyelids of the elder year have drooped and closed
as it slowly sank into inexorable and welcome slumber.
Now there’s a calming softness in the half-light of the new day.
On the surface of the lane the frostiness of dawn
reflects the shyly-peeping sun,
like tarnished silver fused in a mackerel-skin sky
where still lurks the shadow
of the half-spent moon.
The sycamore by the farmhouse is oblivious to errant rooks
discussing weighty matters,
and from which a loud triumvirate departs
to issue stern decrees.
On an ancient oak, noted for its breadth of years,
orange leaves still cling tenaciously to sapless branches
before they join the sour cowl that shelters seeds of life,
fully-filled, like the whole earth,
with the promise of rebirth.